Freaks
by hermetcrab
Summary: A new, less theatrical enemy is trying to rid Gotham of all the 'freaks' that inhabit it and is starting with unmasking the one that started it all, The Batman. And of course, The Joker and Bruce aren't happy about this. Eventual slash Bruce/ Joker
1. Chapter 1

Crime in Gotham was at an all time low. It was still going on of course, this was still the most wretched city in the world, but the crime was on a higher level. There weren't one hundred muggings, rapes and thefts a week, but more a few elaborate, theatrical masterpieces of villainy. The minor thefts were still going on, but only by people too desperate or too stupid to know any better. Gotham had turned into a parody of its self from 2 years ago.

Now, Gotham was infested with freaks, not the normal city freaks, like the mad man who tells you of the worlds imminent doom, or the woman who mutters in dark alleys to invisible monsters, but the _real _freaks; freaks that don masks and capes and linger on rooftops.

This change had of course unsettled the masses. Sure, they weren't getting attacked as frequently but get caught up in one of these new crimes, and you were far worse off.

Normal attacks are traumatic yes, but they're predictable and understandable. These new crimes were seemingly meaningless and bizarre. Absolute chaos! But as the figures and facts showed that crime was down, people stayed quiet and pretended they were happy.

One person however, who most certainly not going to stay quiet was Simon Falcone. Simon was the nephew of the mob boss who had been the first casualty of the freaks. Once the most feared man in Gotham, now a crazy, locked up for his own sake, mind lost. Not only had the Falcone name been ruined, but also almost all the family's assets had gone with it.

Of course, Falcone had been wise enough and rich enough to put money away for his immediate family and they had scurried off out of Gotham on to pastures new. Simon however was not as content to just give everything up like that.

He had returned home after doing his education over seas in Europe to the awaited glory and power he had been promised before leaving, only to find it had all been lost and his name ruined. Furious, he started his own crew and plotted how to re-awaken the fear that the Falcone name had once brought.

Simon was a slight boy with the completion that was associated with someone who hasn't seen a lot of sunlight recently, his skin was pale and ghostly even with his clearly Italian decent. His eyes were a dull grey that seemed to be void of all emotion even when seemingly happy and his hair was dark and lank, slicked back off his wide forehead, which gave him an eerie look.

He was only 18 but thought he was mentally much older. This might be true of his general intelligence as he was top of his school in England and got all the top grades he had planned on getting, but for his personalities sake, he was just a petulant child who had lost something he thought he had the right to and he would throw a temper tantrum until he got his city back.

It had only taken a few months to devise a plan to dislodge the freaks from their perch on the city and Simon wanted to waste no time in putting it into action. Now was time got get what he had waited for.

Simon smiled with anticipation as the sleek black car pulled up outside a derelict yet discreet looking warehouse. This was the first stage of the operation and he couldn't help but feel a buzz. He had longed for this back a school and he was finally getting to live it without any guardian of superior to tell him what to do. It was sort of better than he expected back at school.

He waited for one of the goons that he kept hanging about to get out first and scurrying around to open the door for him, before getting out himself. Act as you mean to go on, was what he always was taught.

He walk in what he hoped was an authoritative manner towards the large sliding doors of the building and then waited for one of his men to heave it open for him.

Light flooded the dark street, elongating their shadows to loom behind them before said man dragged the door shut again after them. The massive, grubby room was mostly filled with large boxed stacked upon each other but in a clearing there was a table and a grouped of more men huddled around it. One of the men was tied to a chair, heaving and covered in sweat, blood and God knows what else. His watery eyes kept darting around to the other men, filled with panic, fear and anticipation. He swallowed nervously when he spotted Simon and his men.

Simon walked purposefully towards the men and allowed his best smirk creep onto his lips. His eyes flickered toward the table were there was a variety of nasty looking equipment that had probably been used on the man in the chair to make him such a quivering mess.

Simon stopped before the pathetic looking man and put on a falsely concerned look.

"Now, I hope my friends here did cause you too much discomfort before I got here but you see, I just _really_ wanted you to know who and what you are dealing with here." He let the smile flicker back onto his lips.

"Now that we have all that unpleasantness out the way I hope you will be wise enough now not to cause you self anymore- but oh how impolite of me, I haven't introduced my self yet! It's Simon Folconey," He extended his hand then chuckling and putting on a mock sheepish look and giggled an apology at the bond man.

"But you can call me Mr Falcone, Mr Reese."

Coleman Reese gulped audibly, sweat trickling down his temple.

Simon regarded him with some distain, allowing an ugly sneer to twist his face before replacing it with the same false smile.

"Now shall we get down to the business at hand," Simon looked around expectantly and another chair was produced by one of his thugs and he sat down directly opposite Reese.

"I'm sure you can guess why you're here," Simon said, brushing nonexistent dust from his suit trouser leg.

Reese just shook his head hesitantly.

Simon gave him an exasperated look before continuing.

"Oh please Mr. Reese, I'm sure, even _you_ aren't that dim witted!"

Reese just looked around apprehensively at the group of foreboding men surrounding him and shook his head again.

Simon allowed the smile to completely fall from his lips now. He regarded the man before him coldly before continuing again.

"I want to know who the man behind the mask is, the man you unmasked. I want to know who the batman is."

Reese gave a little shiver, glanced around at the men again before whispering, "I don't know who he is."

Simon's face barley changed expression. He glanced at a heavy set man standing just to the right of him and the man strode forward and smashed his fist directly into Reese's face.

Reese gasped and slumped forward, trembling.

"Shall we try that again?" Simon said, every bit the patient host. "Who. Is. The Batman?"

"I don't know! I never knew I was just pretending to get attention!" Reese gushed looking imploringly at Simon.

Simon leaded back in his chair and chocked his head to the side with sigh.

"Please don't waste my time with your lies Mr Reese." He glanced at the same man as before and the man picked up a hammer from the table and turned to Reese.

"Now do I have to break every bone in your body that doesn't control your speech or are you going to stop telling porkies?" Simon said in a condescending voice.

Reese gulped, eyes darting from the hammer to Simon's face.

"Please believe me! I DON'T KNOW!" he wailed.

Simon sighed and gave the man with the hammer a curt nod. The man slammed the hammer into Reese's kneecap.

Reese let out a piercing screech, which trailed of into sobs of agony.

Simon regarded him with the same cool expression.

"Feeling a little more like sharing now?" he smiled after the sobbing had all but stopped.

Reese looked up at him through his sweaty fringe.

"I can't." he whispered.

"Try." Simon grinned.

"He'll kill me."

"What makes you think we wont? Besides that's not how the _freak_," Simon said the word with disgust, "operates, he doesn't kill people he just sends them to the police. What _we_ do," he gestured to the men around him and himself," is make you wish The Joker had gotten you first to spare you the agony."

Simon flinched slightly at using the clown's name but the effect it had on Reese made the disgust disappear.

Reese remained silent, trembling more than ever in his chair, biting his sweaty lip.

Simon regarded him for a moment then gestured at the man with the hammer again.

"You're really testing my patients Mr Reese." He said in a singsong voice.

The man raised the hammer again and Reese's eyes widened with horror.

"WAIT! WAIT! I'LL TELL YOU!" he sobbed imploringly, trying to get as far away from the man with the hammer that his bonds and shattered leg would allow.

Simon smiled "Alright Mr Reese, I knew you would come around eventually." He leaned forward in his seat, hands on his lap.

"Tell me who is The Batman?"

Tears of terror rolled down Reese's cheeks as he sucked up the courage to utter the man's name.

"Now!" Simon growled.

"Wayne," Reese gasped. "Bruce Wayne."

Simon sat back in his chair, his lips curling up over his veneers into a triumphant smile.

He glanced over at the man standing to the left of him.

"Make the call." He instructed. The man turned and walked out of the warehouse, pulling out his phone as he went.

Simon stood up, the smile still fixed on his face.

"It's time to depart gentlemen." He glanced back once at Reese slumped in his chair, apprehension and fear written all over his face.

"Dispose of him." He instructed to one of the men and turned to lead the others out of the room.

Simon slipped back into his car, feeling very pleased with himself. He was well on his way to ridding Gotham of all those grotesque freaks and restoring the Falcone name to the previous glory.

He watched the warehouse disappearing as they pulled out of the drive and sighed as he heard the muffled shrieks of Reese coming from the building. Just like those incompetent fools to leave a mess while clearing up. He should have just put a bullet through the man's head himself.

No, Falcone's don't get their hands dirty any more. His uncle did, and look where that got him. The nut house. Simon scowled. Thing were defiantly going to be a lot different around here from now on, starting with getting rid of the freaks.


	2. Chapter 2

To say that Bruce Wayne was apprehensive was like saying The Joker occasionally enjoyed the odd chuckle.

Bruce had been woken in the early hours of the morning -which was pretty early seeing as he had seemingly just gone to bed after patrolling for hours as Batman- by a strange and rather ominous phone call by a person representing someone called Simon Falcone. Bruce had absolutely no idea who that was but with a surname like that, it was almost certainty not good.

The man had stated that if Bruce wanted his 'little secret' to be kept quiet, he should meet at the newly re-opened nightclub called 'Dawn' at eight o'clock that night.

If Bruce hadn't have been so worried about what the phone call suggested, he would have rolled his eyes. How clichéd, was that all they could come up with? Clearly the man on the other end of the phone wasn't the brains of the operation.

Bruce hoped to God that this was just one of those silly stories about a supposed sordid affair he was accused of having or an other such nonsensical rumours that followed his Bruce Wayne; billionaire playboy image around just like any other wealthy person in the spot light.

Unfortunately, the name Falcone implied something much more sinister and Bruce dreaded what that could be. Worse case scenario; this Falcone character has found out his alter ego and planed to blackmail him or…threaten him into doing something that only the Batman could do. That was a pretty bad scenario.

Bruce would be completely forced to comply with these demands, rather than face the wrath of the Gotham City police, who had been chomping at the bit to arrest the Batman from the very start (all except a few, Commissioner Gordon especially) but even more so of late after he took the rap for the Dent murders.

Exposure of his identity would surly lead to imprisonment, most likely in Arkham Asylum and spending his days rotting in there was defiantly not what Bruce had planned for his retirement.

Not only that but if Batman was forced to do anything against his principles, all the work he had done for Gotham would be ruined. Bruce supposed that his work for Gotham had been ruined the moment the news of the murders he had been forced to confessed to had broken, but still a part of him thought that there were people out the who still believed that he was going good every night and if he really did something to tarnish his reputation, everyone would loose hope.

It was clear that he had to go that night and face it head on. He also was fairly confident in his charming tactics he used as Bruce Wayne to captivate women and the odd stubborn matradee to get him the best table in a fully booked restaurant, would help persuade the men tonight that there was no way he was The Batman or if that failed, that they could come to some financial arrangement.

He pulled up at the 'Dawn' nightclub at five to eight that evening, in full Bruce Wayne attire. Being an apparent spoiled socialite himself, he seemed to fit right in to this scene, which was one thing he didn't have to worry about that evening.

He had decided not to tell Alfred about this meeting as he would only worry and Bruce wasn't even sure that it was serious yet. And also, he just didn't want to hear the man who was like a father to him say 'I told you so'-again.

Even so, he missed the old mans comforting words and advice and couldn't help feel slightly alone as he entered the pounding club.

The club seemed like just any other nightclub in this end of Gotham; deafeningly loud bass music thumped through the room, dark lighting pierced with strobe lights, illuminating the club for only a scene at a time. Pretty, young rich things cavorting about, paying for over priced drinks and flirting shamelessly with each other.

Bruce fought his way through the crowd, nodding pleasantly at the occasional vague face he knew, and made his way to the bar to shout over the music to the bartender.

"I think Mr Falcone is expecting me."

The pounding music swallowed the words to anyone but the barman and he nodded. He motioned to a bulky looking man standing nearby and he lumbered over to Bruce and indicated him to follow him.

He led Bruce to a door just off the main room of the club that had two similar looking men guarding the door. They gave Bruce a glance then pushed the doors open and Bruce was ushered in and the doors closed behind him.

He had a brief glimpse of bright red décor before something had crashed into him almost knocking him over. He gave a little gasp before his rigorously acquired reflexes kicked in and he struggled to push the thing off him.

"Oh Brucey, to finally meet you without that silly little mask is absolutely thrilling!" a hurried whisper was happily breathed into his ear, as thin yet powerful arms struggled to keep their hold of the wriggling man.

"Although, I probably would have picked a better, ah, _scenario _for us to meet. But no matter, you here now and we can _finally _have a proper conversation with out all that _drama_" The arms gave a particularly excited squeeze, "if _he_ doesn't spoil the fun, that it."

Bruce forcefully pushed back the grabby person affixed to his person and stared in horror at The Joker standing twitching before him. A broad smile present on his make-up clad face and a look of adoration and exhilaration spread across his features.

"What- what are you talking about?" Bruce stammered, desperately trying to keep the excited clown at arms length as it tried to jump back in his arms.

The Joker stilled for a moment and gave him a 'are you serious?' look.

"Cut the crap, Bruce. I know how you've acquired a taste for spend your nights dancing on rooftops." He growled in appreciation, giving a little giggle.

"Not that that's a bad thing, I'm quite partial to that myself." He gave a sly smile and now turned his effort to trying to grab at Bruce's hands gripping his upper arms that held him in place.

Bruce's mind had temporarily gone blank. How could this have happened? He had assumed that these people threatening him were working alone, and surely they wouldn't have been stupid enough to rope the Joker in on this!

Also, The Joker had always insisted that he didn't care about Batman's identity so Bruce didn't think he would have intentionally sought out the information himself.

This was getting serious now, Bruce could feel his heart rate excel rapidly and forced himself to remain calm and stick to the slick Bruce Wayne persona.

"What- how- you can't be serious." Bruce snorted and tried to give his best 100-dollar smile but The Joker just gave him another look and a slight snigger.

The fact that the clown seemed so completely overjoyed by this predicament filled Bruce with even more dread.

"Ah Mr Joker," a pleasant yet stern voice said from behind the clown, "I think maybe _I _should introduce myself to my guest."

The Joker gave Bruce an exasperated look and whispered "You're gunna _hate_ this guy. A right, ah, sick in the mud." He growled out the last part with a lot more venom than was necessary.

He whipped around and grinned at the men that had appeared behind him.

"I was just about to suggest the very same thing, great minds and all that jazz!"

Bruce looked behind the clown and finally got a look at the room he was in.

It was fairly large room that was obviously used for VIPs or rich socialites private parties. The general decor was of mauves and reds, the furnishings were either black or deep crimson. The lighting was surprisingly bright for a club and it was obvious that this room had been cleared out especially for Bruce and these men to have a quiet meeting.

A small group of men had just emerged out of a side door of the room and the man in front appeared to be the one who had just spoken. He was a fairly young man, Bruce noted, yet seemed to be the one in charge by the way all the other men looked to him, even though most of them were twice his size.

Bruce hoped to God that they hadn't heard what the Joker had just revealed, but perhaps, Bruce thought with dread, they had been the ones to reveal it in the first place. Bruce heart rate increased tenfold.

He hurriedly stepped around the Joker, dropping his hands off him, eager to get as far away from him and his accusations as possible, and gave the men a bright, false smile.

"Mr Falcone, I presume. Do you care to elaborate on why there is a madman in your club to greet me?" He said with a fake laugh, extending his hand and walking over to the men.

The Joker followed behind with a slight pout on his face from Bruce's rejection yet swiping at Bruce free hand, trying to hold on to it in his own.

Bruce glared back at him and pulled his hand away, desperate not to show any ties with the man in front of the other men, before reaching the group of men and shaking Falcone's hand.

There was a flash of contempt on Falcone's face as his and Bruce's hands met, but it was quickly concealed by an oily smile.

"A pleasure Mr Wayne, please sit down and I'll explain." he gestured to one of the rooms booths which Bruce slid into and The Joker quickly followed, sitting as close to Bruce as you could possibly get. "And please do call me Simon, I do want us to get off on the right foot, especially in this, ah, delicate situation."

Bruce returned Simon's sickly smile trying to ignore The Joker who was sitting bolt up right in his seat, staring intently at him.

"I think we might have already gotten off on the wrong foot with that absurd phone call last night and the welcoming party." Bruce grinned, although it was pretty clear he was only half joking.

"Ah yes well, I think to explain the, ahem, Joker situation, I need to explain a little bit before that."

"Hey, erm, Sy, Aren't you going to offer us a drink?" The Joker interrupted, slouching forward in his seat to lean over the table and finally shifting his gaze off Bruce and onto the young man opposite.

Simon turned a cool gaze onto The Joker. It was obvious that this really wasn't one of those meeting where you all shared a drink together and sorted out you're differences.

"I have been informed that you have already had three whiskeys while waiting for Mr Wayne to arrive," Bruce practically rolled his eyes at this. Anyone that would freely allow The Joker to drink clearly didn't know what they were dealing with.

"I would have thought you would have had enough." He spoke to the Joker like you would to a child or someone who had learning disabilities; Bruce felt a surge of dislike for the man.

"I wasn't asking for a lecture, _Sy, _I was asking for a Goddamn drink! Poor Brucey here must be parched!" He slid an arm around Bruce's shoulders, which he quickly shrugged off.

"I'm fine, thank you." Bruce muttered.

"Manners and looks? Aren't you just the perfect package?" The Joker cackled, leaning closer to Bruce and nuzzling his head into Bruce's shoulder. Bruce gave a look of disgust and pushed him away from him.

The Joker just giggled and motioned to one of the hulking men hovering near them.

"You wanna grab me a bottle of whiskey, sweetie?"

The man looked startled and turned to his employer for instructions.

"Very well! Just get him a drink" Simon snapped, clearly flustered at the interruption. It was obvious that he was used to things going his own way but controlling The Joker was not something anyone could do.

Bruce felt a flutter of amusement at the Joker's antics, he had a particular way for getting under someone skin that Bruce had to admire even in a situation like this.

The man who had gone to fetch the drink set a bottle of whiskey down in front of the Joker, pointedly forgetting a glass, before slouching off to stand with the rest of the henchmen.

The Joker pulled the bottle towards him and took a swig out of it, smacking his lips, before offering it to Bruce, who declined it with a slight smirk. The Joker merely shrugged and took another draught.

Simon glared at The Joker before turning his attention back to Bruce.

"As I was saying," He sat up straighter in his seat, as though bracing himself for good news and slicked back his hair off his face. "I am in no doubt that you can guess why you are here."

"I can safely say I have no idea, Simon." Bruce said slickly.

Simon gave a slight laugh.

"Well, I shall enlighten you then. It has come to my attention, after some ah, _digging_, that you are in fact the vigilante going under the name of The Batman."

Bruce felt himself go cold. He clenched his hands together under the table, his knuckles going bone white but he forced himself to not show any other reaction. He wasn't really surprised by the accusation but the fact that it had now been confirmed that they knew still struck him with horror.

He was half glad The Joker had revealed he knew his identity before hand so he could have some time to compose himself. 'A Small mercy' is how Alfred would probably have put it.

He gave a false bark of laughter.

"That's a rather obscure joke, Simon. But now do you want to tell me why I'm really here?"

Simon kept a pleasant smile on his face.

"Oh I assure you, I am not joking, Mr Wayne."

The Joker cleared his throat.

"Er You got something wrong back there, Sy."

Simon turned his head stiffly to The Joker, smiling slipping from his face.

"What?" He muttered through clenched teeth.

The Joker sat forward in his chair, his eyes turning impassioned as the conversation had turned to his favourite subject and he had the floor.

"The Batman's not just a vigilante, he's not doing this for the attention or glory, he's doing it because he _has_ to. It's apart of him, just like me. To do what he does is essential for him, he breathes for it. He couldn't exist with out it. No '_vigilante'_ is as pure as that!"

He slumped back in his chair, taking another swing of whiskey.

"And do you really think I'd waste my time with some _vigilante_? No, The Batman is something new, something special, something I can appreciate."

Bruce stared at him, he had felt before the creeping sensation that The Joker understood him and he had been told on numerous occasions by the man himself that he did, but to hear it so clearly and so definitely from the man was a bit unnerving.

The Joker's eyes slowly travel around to meet Bruce's again. Bruce allowed them to stare into each other for a moment before breaking the connection and looking away.

"Was that really necessary?" Simon growled.

The Joker shrugged, turning to him. "It needed to be said. Someone should fight Batsy's corner."

Bruce sat up a little straighter; he felt like new life had been breathed into him at the Joker's words and he was ready to 'fight his corner'.

"Do you have any evidence to back this ludicrous claim?"

"Well, we have the word from a man called Coleman Reese claiming that you _are_ the Batman. But I understand that one man's word does not hold up to much, so I did a bit more research and guess what I found?" Simon smiled, clearly more comfortable now that he was in control and in the familiar zone of proving how clever he was.

"I found out that a lot of Wayne Industries property just seems to vanish over night. Millions of dollars in equipment gone just like that and yet no one questions it. That in itself is a little odd don't you think? But then you see items that are very similar to those stolen being used by the Batman, the car he drives around in for example, is _shockingly_ like the one that was in residence in Wayne Industries till a few years ago." At this, Simon withdrew some files from his jacket and tossed them onto the table. The files were of all the equipment that had gone missing in Wayne Industries and photos of Batman equipment that Bruce had dropped or lost during a fight and had found its way into police custody. They skidded to a halt in front of Bruce, who just looked down at them hopelessly.

"But then you have to wonder why no one questions it, because surely an impressive company such as that would monitor that kind of thing. Then one must come to the conclusion that it must be a very influential person in the company who is taking it, which brings me right back around to you, Mr Wayne. Only you seem to have the power and influence to be able to do something like that."

He stared at Bruce who was sitting stony face, listening to the man.

"There are also these photos I had taken of the Batman driving into an entrance just outside Wayne Manor."

He threw the pictures on the table as well and they slid next to the other files.

"When my men went to go investigate the entrance however, it seemed impossible to enter, which is why I had to find that other set of evidence to back up my claim."

Simon gave a sickeningly smug smile when he had finished and regarded Bruce, waiting for him to react. He also seemed rather relieved that the Joker hadn't interrupted his little speech with another irrelevant story or request.

Bruce looked down at the files and photos and felt a little sick. This was pretty much damning evidence, the only thing that would be worse was if he actually had been able to access the batcave, which Bruce was incredibly relieved that they couldn't.

He couldn't see a way for him to argue himself out of this. He turned to the Joker in a last attempt to find an answer but he was just staring intently down at the evidence with a slight frown creasing his brow.

He turned to look back at Falcone, having no answers. He felt lost, he felt like he did all those years ago, waiting in the alley for the police to turn up to take him away from the bodies of his parents.

"While you mull all that over, I'll explain to you why I bothered to find out who the Batman was in the first place. You see, I _really _dislike all these masked criminals creating havoc around Gotham, they give criminals a bad name. They make a mockery of the whole process of criminality. Not only that, but they've run almost all the normal criminals out of this town and made it a laughing stock.

But you can't totally blame these _freaks _for being here as they are just following the lead of the biggest freak of all, the one that started the whole thing." Simon spoke with a bitter anger to his voice that made him seem like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

"The _Batman_ is the reason they are here. If he, or rather, _you_ Mr Wayne, weren't here all the little freaks would have no one to rebel against and they would just retreat back into the cracks in the earth from where they came from and I would be able to take up my mantle as the head criminal of this town." A greedy smile had crept onto Simon's face as he said this.

Bruce scowled; of course this was about power and money.

"But now I found myself in the predicament of how to get rid of you, many had tried in the past by force and that had failed miserably, so I used the power at my disposable to find out who you were, then I contacted the Joker. The rift you two have is almost legendary and I knew he would jump at the chance to be involved with anything to do with you. Telling him your identity was another way of enforcing that you would leave this city as now that you're enemy knows who you are, you can't possibly continue donning the mask and cape every night.

And obviously, if you continue to do so, which would be extremely stupid, I will tell Gotham police who you are and you will be arrested and locked up in Arkham along with the other freaks."

There was a pregnant silence once Simon had finish. Bruce tried to register everything he had just heard. He had basically just been told he had to leave the city he was sworn to protect and given his life to, other wise he would be thrown in the Asylum.

It didn't feel real. He had somehow just thought that Falcone would just want money or an ethically challenged job for him to do, never give it up completely. Bruce wasn't even sure if he could.

The Joker spoke up for the first time since Simon spoken.

"You got an other thing wrong there, Sy."

"What? What on Earth could I have gotten wrong?" Simon demanded, peeved at the correction.

"Well you see, you said that you told me who Batsy was, which was sort of correct, and that if I knew, Batsy couldn't do what Batsy does best any more."

"Yes, so?"

"Sorry to burst you bubble Sy, but I already knew who Bats was and that hasn't stopped me playing with him yet."

"What?" Bruce gasped, turning to The Joker.

"Come on, Brucey, you're hardy subtle. This guy thinks he's some kind of genius for figuring it out but it was pretty obvious." He pointed at Simon who just glowered at him.

"Who in Gotham is rich enough to have all the shit Batman does? And who out of those people are young and fit enough to not bust a hip while punching the bad guys? Brucey, you were the only option. Although, saying that, I am probably the only person who thinks about you enough to work it out." He grinned, staring a Bruce and fluttering his eye lashed at him.

"But why didn't you do anything about it?" Bruce asked, giving up all pretence that he wasn't Batman as it seemed pointless now.

"What fun would that be?" The Joker said, with an astonished look on his face as though Bruce should never have doubted him.

"But you see, I can let that mistake go, I mean, you couldn't read my mind right?" He had turned his attention back to Simon, serious again.

"But what I _can't_ let go is the whole _threatening _thing. Us, er what did you call us? 'Freaks'? Well, us _freaks_ have gotten pretty comfortable in Gotham and this city is the perfect landscape for a bit of chaos and I _need_ my Batsy by my side when I create my special brand of anarchy. We create the most beautiful sparks together and we are kind of a two-part deal, you can't have one without the other. And I _know_ that Basty won't be Basty anywhere but in Gotham. So if you're threatening my bat's livelihood, your threatening me, and I _really_ don't like being told what to do, you see."

The room had filled with tension and the henchmen around the room seemed to draw closer to the booth, hands tightening in jackets, clutching onto guns and knives.

"So listen, we've heard what you've got to say, and to be honest, it's bull shit, so just going to head off now."

He clutched at Bruce's sleeve to imply that they were going. Bruce stared down at the gloved hand on his arm and wondered when they had become 'we'.

Simon looked incredulously at the clown.

"I don't think you understand, this isn't an option. You _have _to leave."

"Er, no we don't, I think we have another option." The Joker stated.

"And what's that?" Simon scoffed.

A grin spread across the Joker's face and he let go of Bruce sleeve.

"Do you want to see a magic trick?"

Oh no, Bruce groaned to himself.

In a blur of impossibly fast movement that Bruce had grown used to in their nightly fights, The Joker smashed the whiskey bottle on the table and had slit the throat of the nearest goon hovering near him.

There was a loud commotion where the other men jolted into movement but were too slow for the vicious clown who had already acquired the gun out of the pocket of the dead man and shot the rest of the men.

Bruce had lunged up to try and disable the Joker, with a cry of 'No!' but he had already danced out of reach and the men were dead.

Simon sat rooted to the booth, his eyes wide with shock and horror as the Joker turned to him, his arm drenched with whiskey and blood.

"If you kill me, I have precautions set up that every news station in Gotham will have information connecting Bruce Wayne to Batman." He blurted out backing away from the Joker, as he stepped towards him.

He paused and regarded Simon for a moment.

"That's enough. Joker!" Bruce growled warningly.

The Joker turned to Bruce in surprise as though he had forgotten he was there.

"Oh Batsy," He said with an affectionate yet exasperated note to his voice. "I should have known you still would have all your pesky little morals as Bruce Wayne and even for _this_ little shit." He gestured to Simon.

He dropped the gun onto one of the bodies of the men and turned back to Bruce.

"I think now we've made our message pretty clear." He said, with a snigger. "Anyway, guns aren't really my style."

Bruce slipped out of the booth, trying to avoid the body of the man nearest him. He felt regret for the senseless killings of these men just like he would for anyone else, but he couldn't shake that small feeling of satisfaction he got from the look on Falcone's face. And the even smaller feeling of pride, that the Joker had done that to protect him. He didn't think the Joker needed much of a reason to kill people but the things he had said before had affected Bruce and he felt as though he should be worried about that.

"I think you should probably, ah, reconsider threatening us again Sy." The Joker said, leaning over the table to loom over Simon. "Brucey here may not be there next time to stop me bleeding you dry. I have plenty of other magic tricks I'm just gagging to try out."

The Joker pushed himself off the table and walked over to the bar in the corner, fished out another bottle of whiskey then joined Bruce over by door and they slipped out together.

**A/N: Oh my, that was so long but I couldn't find a convenient place to stop it at. I have been working on this chapter for a ridiculously long time that probably doesn't show with the quality but I couldn't get the first meeting right. :/ Anyway, please review and give your thoughts good or bad :)**


	3. Chapter 3

Simon sat motionless on the cheap leather of the booth, still in the same position that The Joker and Bruce had left him in at least 5 minutes ago. The scenes of the night were playing over and over in his potentially brilliant mind, all of them poisoned by The Joker.

His jittering movements, the thoroughly worn face-paint that had worried itself so completely into his face that it was a part of it, his nimble fingers that held a blade so surely. Simon hated every possibly thing about him. Such absolute rebellion of convention was not normal, not healthy. Simon hated that he could not understand him but felt disgusted for wanting to.

He felt a rush of frustrated anger at The Joker for ruining what he had spent months planning. Having the Joker on his side, for the shortest time possible preferably- having that mad man near him made Simon feel like he was contaminating the very air around him, would have been the last nail in the coffin for Wayne, and he would have had to comply with his demands. As it was now, he had just given Wayne an ally.

He remembered the shrill, never ending laughter that had erupted from the man after he had sought him out and told him what he knew. He had assumed at the time that it was in joy at finally having something against the bat, but now it seemed he was laughing at Simon. It was clear _now _that The Joker intended to stand by the Batman for God knows what reason.

The suddenly apparent drip of something disturbed Simon's thoughts. He looked around and saw that one of his men had fallen onto one of the tables during The Joker's massacre, and the pool of blood that had formed on the surface had now started to run off the edge. Simon watched the small puddle that was forming before his eyes in a strange limbo between any thoughts.

The rhythmic sound spurred the cogs in his brain into working again.

His eyes darted about the horrific scene in front of him, of the bodies of his ex-employees spread out across the room in unnatural positions. It was ok, he told himself; he had more men at his disposal, the death of these few wasn't much of loss. The real problem here was The Joker. Simon was sure he could break Wayne if he didn't have the other in the way. Batman had rules and he couldn't afford his identity revealed, but the Joker had no rules and nothing to loose.

He paused, contemplating for a moment, before pulling out his mobile from his jacket pocket and dialling a number.

The club was past its peek now, the air was stale with sweat and the cigarette smoke that had clung to people's clothes, but to Bruce it was the most liberating scent in the world. He breathed in gulps of it as though the room he had just exited had been filled with water not air.

His unsteady legs carried him away from the sheltered room without looking back at the man that might or might not be following him. The bright, flashing lights that followed him around the club were throwing him more out of sorts, adding to his state of bewilderment.

An almost forbidden excitement was growing inside him; he felt like a child that had gotten away with breaking something and couldn't believe their luck for not being found out.

He had nearly lost everything for a moment back there and there was a point where he was sure it was all over; protecting Gotham, the double life, the freedom. But then the Joker of all people had saved him.

Thoughts of the Joker suddenly flooded Bruce's mind, a subject that he had been trying to avoid up till now. He had known his identity for what appeared to be quite a while now and Bruce knew that that thought should disturb him or at least anger him but strangely it didn't. He hadn't done anything with the information, in fact from the looks of it he had been trying to help Bruce keep it a secret. Bruce even had a feeling the reason The Joker had turned up to the meeting tonight was to make sure his identity stayed hidden by whatever ridiculous and violent means necessary.

Bruce furrowed his brow; trust the joker to be so irritatingly enigmatic.

He reluctantly turned around to try and see said criminal in the crowd of people, suddenly aware that a Joker unleashed upon a crammed room of civilians was probably not the best idea. Although, he had probably satisfied his blood lust for that evening after what he did to Falcone's men. A slight glimmer of satisfaction arose in Bruce at the memory and the Batman part of him scolded him in disgust.

His eyes settled on the Joker behind him, a few groups of people separating them, pushing through the crowd to try and keep up with Bruce. Bruce almost considered pausing to allow The Joker to catch him up but quickly banished the thought as nonsense. Since when had they become a partnership?

There was a cheerful look upon The Joker's face, although Bruce didn't think this was abnormal as The Joker always seemed to be grinning, but there was also a hunger to the look as both he and Bruce gazed at each other, that Bruce felt slightly unnerving.

Bruce watched as the Joker roughly pushed a particularly engrossed couple aside, his eyes fixed on Bruce, clearly uncaring of whoever got in his way. Bruce almost winced sympathetically as he saw the jolted couple's drinks spill over them. The rather haughty looking man turned around looking livid and starting yelling inaudible things to the Joker's back. The Joker, still purposefully stalking towards Bruce, ignored the man. Bruce wondered if he even registered him at all. The way he was staring at Bruce gave him the unsettlingly impression that The Joker couldn't see anything else in the room apart from him.

As the Joker hadn't ceased walking, the man, seemingly desperate for some sort of vengeance, threw the rest of the half lost drink at the Joker's retreating back.

The Joker stilled, the content of the glass dripping down the back of his coat, seeping through the fabrics underneath to dampen his skin. There were a few snide titters from the man's partner and she clutched to the man's arm in pride while he grinned with satisfaction.

Bruce watched in dismay as The Joker's smile turned to an ugly look of pure anger; the expression made even more terrible by the way his face twisted at the pull of his scars. He slowly turned back towards the man, a hand slipping into one of his pockets.

Bruce started frantically pushing back through the crowd, yelling at the Joker, desperate to intervene, to prevent the inevitable.

There was a shrill shriek of horror that erupted from the man's companion as both she and Bruce watched The Joker plunge a blade that he had produced alarmingly fast, into the man's neck. No rambling story, no teasing or mind games. He must have really liked that jacket, Bruce thought darkly, shoving club goers aside.

Bruce finally reached the Joker who was still clutching the twitching body and ripped him away from it.

"You. Fucking. Moron!" Bruce yelled savagely into his ear as he dragged the Joker by the collar of his soaking coat away form the now still body and hysterical girl.

"He disserved it! This coat was tailor made!" the Joker spat, struggling in Bruce's arms. Bruce glowered at him, tightening his grip and tried to get them across the room as quickly as possible without being recognised.

Thankfully, the deafening music had mostly swallowed the girl's scream and people were still looking around for the source. But as they made their way toward the exit, panic was rippling across the room; screams and sobs sounded about the room and just before they reached the exit the music cut out and the screams grew louder.

The pleasant buzz that had briefly dwelled in Bruce at the success over Falcone, had completely evaporated, now all that was left was the usual anger, increased by ten folds. He felt livid; not just towards the Joker but towards himself as well. He had allowed himself to briefly, almost inadvertently, think that the Joker was better than he really was. That maybe there was a decent person under all that makeup and scars and helping Bruce was him starting to try and get better.

But no, everything he had done had all been purely selfish Bruce realised. He only helped Bruce so that he could continue 'play' with Batman and so as not to get bored. Bruce could possibly have justified the henchman killings but the murder of that man was inexcusable and just proved to Bruce how wrong he had been about him.

Bruce rushed them passed the bouncers and loiterers outside who were too distracted by the ruckus inside to notice them anyway. He was too enraged to even wait for the valet to get his car and also too wary of how he would look waiting around clutching the Joker.

He pulled the Joker with him, ignoring the laughter coming form the man, desperate to get as far away from the club as possible so he could dump the Joker somewhere and go home, get changed to the batsuit and then go beat the crap out of some unsuspecting criminals, maybe even the Joker if he could find him again. That thought gave Bruce deep satisfaction.

They finally made it around the corner of the street to one that was more residential therefore much more quiet. This street was unexpectedly empty for such a large city but as it was near the narrows and it was coming up to midnight, it wasn't really that surprising.

The Joker pushed himself out of Bruce's strong grip, stumbling backwards while he did so.

"Can you just cool it Bats! We got away, its ok now!" He said, straightening his coat.

"How the hell is it ok? You just killed a man for no reason and I just incriminated my self by helping you escape." Bruce rubbed a hand over his eyes, the full extent of the Joker's actions only just settling in.

"Not only that but there are now five other bodies lying in the back of that club with an eye witness sitting right next to them. Do you really think that someone like Falcone will just let that slide?"

The Joker was hardly listening, twisting his body around to try and get a look at his stained jacket.

"Do you think it notices that much? It'd better come out or I swear to God…"

Bruce threw his hands in the air and had to walk away from The Joker to stop himself from pummelling him into the pavement with his fists.

"You know, I don't see why you're being so tetchy. You're acting like this is all my fault."

Bruce turned around to him slowly, a look of incredulity on his face.

"I'm acting like it's your fault because it _is_ your fault, you psychopath! You're the one who killed all those people!" He turned away from the clown in disbelief. "I don't know what's stopping me dragging you to Arkham right now."

"_Excuse_ me! I only turned up tonight to save your skin! You didn't seem to mind me so much when I was baling you out of the mess you had created!" The Joker snarled.

"I never asked you for help, there was nothing keeping you at that meeting! Anyway, I would have been fine without you."

"Oh yeah? You seemed just peachy back there; practically shitting yourself and saying fuck all! Without me, you would be packing your bags right now!"

"I would have been fine!" Bruce roared at the clown, the truth of his words causing his anger to get the better of him. "I always do everything by myself, why would this have been any different?"

"You know, you didn't have to come back for me in the club, you could have left me and gotten away without any danger of being linked back to me." The Joker murmured quietly, peering at Bruce through green tendrils.

"What- I- No I couldn't, I- how did I know you weren't going to hurt more people if I just left you there?" Bruce spluttered, rather thrown off by the random statement.

"I wouldn't have, you know I wouldn't have, it was only that dick keeping me in that stinking place, yet you came back to get me."

"Look, your making this into a big deal when it really wasn't-"

"It's just like I always said, we are _perfect_ for each other! We look out for one an other, pick up the pieces when the other stumbles…" The Joker was doing an odd sort of dance about Bruce as he said this, slowly moving from foot to foot; close enough to get his point across to Bruce, but not enough for Bruce to swat him away.

"Stop it! Stop acting like- like we're _friends_ or something! You're absolutely deluding yourself if you think anything has changed between us because of this evening, that _my_ feelings towards you and what you have done have changed! You are still scum to me." Bruce half yelled, half growled, the Joker's words irking him to no end.

"Oh Brucey, you _know_ things have changed, the way you were looking at me in the club, couldn't you _feel_ it?" The Joker cackled, leaning close to Bruce, ghosting his hands over his chest.

Bruce felt something snap in him at this and raised his arm up and punched the Joker in the face, with all the pent up rage he had been carrying from the evening backing the force.

The Joker stumbled backwards, still guffawing loudly.

"You know, it so _fun_ to find all your little buttons and _ramming_ them down to see how far you will go!"

Bruce let out a snarl and slammed his fist again into The Joker jaw. He wheezed out more laughter, tongue flicking out to catch the dribble of blood that leaked out the corner of his mouth.

"Has Batsy come out to play?"

Bruce made a movement towards The Joker, fully intent on connecting his fists with as much of him as he could, when a sudden roar of noise and bright lights engaged all his sense.

He turned his head to find the source of the interruption when he was suddenly flung back against the wall of the nearest house, falling hard to the ground, his head connecting with the stone steps that lead up to the residence with a sickening 'crack'.

From his position on the cold ground, he heard the loud thumps of hollowed metal being hit, glass cracking and the shriek of laughter, before the roar was disappearing. There was the faint screech of rubber before a ringing silence.

Lights were shinning in front of Bruce's eyes, he knew he had to clear them, to be able to see and think clearly but they were so bright. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping this would rid his head of these unwanted lights. They transformed into multicoloured shaped floating behind his eyelids, melding into one another or straying just at the corner of his eye.

They slowly dissolved until there was only purple and green left. Bruce felt a sense of familiarity with these colours, like he knew they were linked to him in some way but his throbbing head would not let his memories come freely. Snippets of thought were coming to him sluggishly; pounding music and flashing blue lights, red spurting in rivets, yelling in the street, brighter lights than the ones in Bruce's head rushing towards him and... Oh God, The Joker.

Bruce sat up quickly, an action that was clearly a mistake. His head seemed to be revolving on the spot, his eyes unable to focus. He screwed his eyes closed again, desperate for clarity. He slowly raised one of his hands and gingerly touched the back of his throbbing head, when he retracted the hand it was stained with blood.

Bruce groaned, this was feeling terribly similar to a concussion. But he couldn't have one right now; now he needed to find the Joker. He slowly opened his eyes, sudden movements seemed off the table right now, and took in the scene in front of him.

The Joker was lying a few feet away from him, his back towards Bruce, unmoving. Bruce's eyes widened. The Joker's long coat had wrapped around him like a blanket and his wild hair covered any of his face that Bruce might have been able to see. He looked so fragile lying in the road like that, it was hard to believe what that small, doll like figure was capable of.

"Joker?" Bruce croaked.

Still no movement.

Bruce drew in a shaky breath; he remembered hands pushing him away, trying to keep him safe.

He staggered up and lurched forward, still unbalanced, and clutched on to the wall for support. He took a tentative step forward, then when no more lights or colours appeared, made his unsteady way across to the motionless body near him.

He dropped down next to it, calling The Joker's name again. He rested a hesitant hand on his shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.

"Can you hear me, Joker?" He gave the shoulder a little shake after there was no response, cautious for any broken bones.

A small giggle sounded in the man's throat and Bruce sighed in relief.

"Joker, if you're pretending this is one of your lesser jokes."

A blackened eye slowly opened and his lips split into a grin.

"I was good at playing possum, wasn't I?" he whispered in a weak voice. Bruce couldn't resist a small smile.

"I suppose. Does anything hurt? Can you move everything? You're not bleeding anywhere are you?"

The Joker gave a croaky laugh.

"See, I knew you cared."

"Seriously, are you able to get up?"

"Lets find out shall we?"

The Joker slowly sat up with Bruce aiding him at his elbow.

"See, I am indestructible!" The Joker grinned, but Bruce noted the slight wince he had given with the motion.

"You're going to need to go to hospital, I can see you're hurt." Bruce couldn't help the concern that slipped into his voice.

"Ah, you remember who you're talking to, big guy? If I trot into a hospital demanding treatment, they're just going to whisk me away to Arkham as soon as my boo-boos are healed up and I have no intent to ever go back there."

Bruce frowned.

"I fail to see the down side here."

The Joker glared at him.

"You're awfully mean to someone who just saved your bacon- again."

Bruce looked away from those intense eyes, rather bashful.

"Oh yes, ah, thank you for that. You really didn't need to do that."

The Joker stared at him for a moment, grinning like the loon he was, savouring the moment before continuing.

"Well yes actually as it happens there really was no need. They weren't aiming for you, they were aiming for me."

"What?" Bruce hadn't even started to think about the motive behind the attack, or the attack at all for that matter. The Joker and his well-being had taken up most of his thoughts.

"I'm thinking Sy wasn't too happy about how his little soiree went down earlier and decided to dish out a little pay back." The Joke said in a slightly strained voice as he leaned back to crick is back.

"He seems like the sort of creep that would get someone else to do his dirty work." Bruce said darkly, watching The Joker cautiously, seeking out any visible injuries.

"Yeah, I don't really see him risking denting his Porsche just for little ol' me." The Joker started to try and get up, but slumped back down with a giggle.

"I don't think the old legs have quite recuperated yet."

"Look, I'm serious about the hospital, you're clearly in pain. You just got hit by a car for Christ sake!" Bruce said exasperatedly.

"There is no way in hell I'm going to the hospital and if you try and take me I shall run, I'm warning you. And then you will have my injuries I get from that on your batty conscience!" The Joker said glaring up at Bruce.

"Ok, Ok. No hospital." Bruce said, holding his hands up as if to show he wasn't going to force him. "But there's no way you're getting home alone like this."

"Trust me, I've had worse, sweetie. Mostly from you." The Joker smirked.

Bruce frowned at him.

"Yeah, well, you deserved it."

"And I don't now?" The Joker said with a sly smile.

Bruce paused. The Joker had killed several people tonight, and not to mention what he had done before then, and yet Bruce still couldn't help but think of him as the victim.

"Don't be stupid, no one deserved to be hit by a car, no matter what they've done." Bruce looked away from the man; he could hardly believe he was talking to the Joker like this. "Now come on, we need to get you out of here before anyone comes out to see what all that noise was. You really do have the most annoyingly recognisable laugh."

Bruce glanced around at the houses around them for any signs of movement at the windows, but everything was still. Apparently, hit and runs were a common thing in this neighbourhood.

"Right well, as the hospital isn't an option, you can just take me home then." He gave Bruce a smirk. "I might even give you a kiss on the door step if you're lucky."

Bruce rolled his eyes. His head was pounding and he really didn't have the energy to argue.

"Whatever, clown." He muttered and straightened up.

"You're going to need to give me a little help here, bats." The Joker said, holding out an arm. Bruce gripped it and hauled him up. The Joker staggered and Bruce took hold of him around his waist to allow him to rest all his weight on him.

The Joker gave a contented sigh.

"Oh Brucey, what a gentleman!" He giggled and slipping his arms around Bruce's shoulders for support.

Bruce gave a little grimace.

"Don't get too comfortable, Joker. You're house or whatever squat your staying in better not be too far away. I don't think it'd look every good me going back to fetch my car with you hobbling next to me."

The Joker giggled.

"Ashamed of me bats? Or are you just used to a blonde bimbo on your arm." He ran a hand through his matted hair. "I'm afraid you're a little too late to see my blonde locks, you're going to have to settle for green."

Bruce ignored him, and for the second time that night, pulled The Joker with him down the street, The Joker's giggles echoing around them.

**A/N: The club scene seemed to extend itself a bit. I only meant for that section to be short but it got away from me slightly. I intended more things to happen in this chapter but as it is its pushing it so I cut it short at a somewhat random place but it sets up the next chapter rather nicely. Again, reviews and comments most welcome ;)**


End file.
